“Terril, I have come to offer my apologies,” he said, his voice tight with the anger he held inside. “I searched for other words which would speak of the stupidity I have been guilty of, yet words come poorly to my tongue when they are most needed. I have too often depended upon my sword to speak for me, a practice which avails me naught in these circumstances. Were it possible for me to suffer the pain you were given, I would do so gladly.”
“But it is possible,” I murmured sleepily, looking up at him. “I can recreate everything I felt and give it to you just the way it was given to me. Would you like me to do that?”
He hesitated a very long time, seconds at least, his mind trying to adapt to the alienness of the concept. Then, very solemnly, he nodded his head.
“Should that make the pain more bearable for you, you may do that very thing. It was my place to protect you, to take you in my arms no matter the consequences, to demand your release or die in attempting to free you. Give me the pain you were given, hama, so that I may share it with you and thereby lighten its hold on you.”
He continued to stare at me, the calm in complete possession of him again, his mind open and waiting for whatever would come. He spoke the truth when he said he would welcome sharing the pain, and I could feel the tears returning to my eyes. Deep down beneath the anger which had nearly dissolved was his own pain, a self-condemnation so great it made mine pale and wraithlike in comparison. I sobbed once before I could stop myself, and then I was clawing my way out of the nest of cushions to throw myself into his arms. He held me to him while I nearly strangled him with the hold I had around his neck, but nearly strangling didn’t bother him. He immediately radiated such contentment and pleasure that I was nearly drowned.
“It still won’t work,” I moaned, trying to defend myself from the assault of his mind. “I won’t work for you and I won’t obey you, and I won’t stop being what I am. Rimilia isn’t the world for me!”
“It is the only world for you for it is my world,” he murmured, pressing me back into the cushions. “This world is mine and you are mine, and no man will ever take either from me. I have missed you sorely, hama, and have spent many empty nights dreaming of once again holding you in my arms. Now I need no longer be content with dreams.”
He twisted around to put his lips on mine, cutting off the rest of my protests; my head began whirling immediately, and didn’t stop for a long, long time.
It was nearly dark by the time food was brought to us, but somehow we didn’t miss it any sooner. I wrapped a piece of silk around myself to go into the next room for the meal, and it turned out to be a good thing I did. Just as we were finishing the meal, a knock on the door preceded the appearance of Len and Garth.
“Here’s the haddin you wanted, Tammad,” Garth said, coming forward with the dark green cloth. “There was a time when I would have preferred red to dark green, but those days were before my time in the kitchens.”
“You would have disliked it even more if you’d ended up in the vendra ralle,” Len told him, closing the door before following him farther into the room. “It was all I could do to keep that from happening.”
“It was all you could do?” Garth frowned, stopping to turn back to him. “You mean you manipulated someone to get that to happen? Why?”
“I decided I needed you more wherever I was going than
Tammad would need you where he was going,” Len shrugged. “I’m not used to the adventurous life like you rugged types. If I was going to have my throat cut, I wanted someone around to say good-bye to.”
“And you complain about Terry,” Garth said in disgust, looking Len up and down. “All this time I thought I’d been sent to the kitchens because I wasn’t good enough to be a vendra.”
“You were more than good enough,” Len assured him, actually looking ashamed. “If I’d known it would mean that much to you, I would have explained a good deal sooner. I’m sorry, Garth. I should have gone alone after all.”
“I don’t believe this,” I said, talking to the empty air. “One of them is complaining about not having had to risk his life in the arena, and the other is apologizing for having saved him from it. They must both be crazy.”
“They are men,” Tammad chuckled, rising from his place on the floor beside me as Len and Garth both laughed. “It is not possible for a woman to know the mind of a man even with a talent such as yours, hama. The thoughts of each are too alien for the other.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that they’re crazy,” I returned, watching Tammad take the haddin from Garth and turn toward the sleeping room with it. They were all amused by my comment, but I noticed that none of them denied the charge.
While Tammad was in getting rid of the trappings of a vendra, Len and Garth explained how they’d managed to track me down each time. In the first instance, the dead l’lenda had been found much sooner than they normally would have been when someone was sent to hurry us in our bathing and clothes washing so our guards could join the other men in listening to Garth. Tammad took most of his l’lendaa and chased after us, finding that the savages were moving in a straight enough line to be followed even in the pouring rain. The l’lendaa caught up to the savages right after they’d sold us; rescued the last woman who hadn’t been sold, then set about “questioning” the savages with Len’s help. As soon as the drugs wore off the savages were easy to reach, and once Tammad learned where the rest of us had been taken the savages were put out of their misery and the Hamarda were run down. None of them knew what had been done to me by the Hamarda, but when I had turned up missing along with a seetar, Tammad noticed that his own seetar had broken its tether. After buying the other women and sending them back with two of the men, Tammad had had Len ask the seetar if he knew where I had gone. Len had had a hard time making himself understood, but finally managed to convey the question. The seetar did indeed know which way I had gone, having followed me with his mind as far as he could, and he didn’t mind taking Tammad and the rest in the same direction. He’d been worrying about me since I’d left, and was anxious to find out if I was all right. Amazingly enough, a seetar’s ability to follow someone is greater than that of the zang, used in olden times on Central to track down criminals. Tammad and his men turned out to be just as amazed, especially when they were led to Aesnil’s palace, but they were too anxious to end the chase to remember to be cautious. Aesnil had the three chasers arrested, then started her campaign on me.
Tammad came back just as the story was finishing, but before he could comment another knock came at the door. This time it was Cinnan, who entered with a small roll of the sort of parchment Rimilians used to write on. He nodded to Len and Garth, eyed me with a directness I still found disturbing even after so much time on Rimilia, then turned to Tammad.
“This was given to one of my men earlier this day,” he said, handing over the roll. “He was directed to give it to the vendra Tammad as soon as possible, yet found his duties in the aftermath of the battle too weighty to put aside. It was brought to me no more than a few moments ago, and I now bring it to you.”
Tammad accepted the roll with a frown of curiosity, opened the thing, then began reading. I could feel his anger grow greater the farther he went, and at last he looked up and threw the roll from him.
“Who is this Daldrin?” he demanded, staring at Len and Garth. “Am I mistaken in believing his name was mentioned by the two of you?”
“Daldrin was the slave Terril brought to guide us back to camp when our escape was accomplished,” Len said, answering in Rimilian because the question had been put in that language. “He seemed disturbed over leaving Terril unprotected, yet otherwise did exactly what was required of him. He even returned with us to attack the ralle.”